Tinkicker

Agreed. About 15 years ago, I was nearly knocked down on a zebra crossing by a lycra clad nob. All the cars stopped, I was crossing and he overtook all the cars at full speed, never tried to stop. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and jumped back. If I saw him a bit earlier I would have grabbed his handlebar and brought him off. Probably kicked seven bells out of him too. I have no beef with cyclists in general, but that minority of arrogant ricks wearing lycra and riding in packs who deliberately go out of their way to cause as much disruption as possible need sorting.

BSAU 193 is just a stamp to show they are approved for road use. It is NOT a model number. I would say those silencers are for the early 1980s DOHC Honda CB750/900F. They look very simiar to ones I had on mine back in the early 90s. Edit. http://www.bits4motorbikes.co.uk/Exhausts/MotorbikeExhausts.html?MotorID=189

Some hardy, winter riding souls on here. I did consider, as every weekend, some bikey things. I answered a message from someone on ebay waiting for delivery of a DT175mx fuel tank I flogged him. So that is a bikey thing I think. Was going to pull out the VFR750 and give it a wash to get all the winter storage silicone spray off it, and check it over as it was a sunny day. I stood looking at the shed door. Gave my cheek and chin a scratch. Scratched my backside, sniffed the air. It felt cold. Too cold to be washing a bike that did not need washing. Looked through the shed window to check that there was still a large lump hiding under some blankets. There was. Scanned around to check that the various flashing lights and readouts in the shed were still in fact flashing, and reading out. They were. Retreated indoors. Another bikey thing done. Laid on sofa watching youtube vids while sipping a beverage made of ground Arabica beans, looking through the patio windows into the conservatory at my Yamaha DT175MX. I have resolved to replace the generator side crank seal, reset the ignition timing, and pull the top end down to fit new rings; all in the name of addressing a power delivery that falls far short of the rip snorting beast that my 17 year old self experienced, way back in the mists of time. Of course this missing performance has nothing to do with my being a skinny runt in my youth, then years of bodybuilding and now with a lapsed bodybuilding, but enthusiastic beer drinking frame, weighing almost double and twice as wide as what I once did. Anyhooo. I was going to pry my sorry arse of the sofa and twiddle spanners, yet never did. The best laid plans of mice and men...

Judging from his bins, he is in Sefton. Merseyside.

Grey import only so far as I know for less than 400cc. Official import.. 2022 Kwack Ninja 400 with 223 miles on clock here: https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/KAWASAKI-NINJA-400/125752680694 Or from Kawasaki dealers brand new. https://www.kawasaki.co.uk/en/products/Supersport/2023/Ninja_400/overview?Uid=08E6DFsKXFkMXVoMWFsOXA5ZXwpcUQlZC1sLXAlQCVxdUQw

Rarely do I recommend movies because some of the war and action films I watch can be too gory for some. However, one I came across I feel safe in recommending. It is a bit more gentle and moving. The missus loved it too. Closing the Ring on Prime Video. Based on a true story about a USAAF B17 bomber that crashed on a hillside on the outskirts of Belfast in 1944. It focuses on those connected to the crash in 1944 and forward to the 1990s. Directed by Richard Attenborough and starring Shirley Maclaine and Pete Postlethwaite among others. Article on the events surrounding the crash here: https://archives.wartimeni.com/article/boeing-b-17-42-97862-crash-on-cavehill-belfast/

Hmm. I think I shall introduce a couple of COLREGS posts and a brace of anchor posts, just to liven things up. Whats that you say? You bought a Rocna? As an aside, for an exciting time navigating through hoards of drunken idiots in hourly rental boats with no experience at all, try going up the river ouse through York on a sunny saturday afternoon. Really gets the pulse racing. Swarms of idiots with no idea of colregs, sound signals or even basic seamanship all on a collision course, 200ft tour boats bearing down on you and you cant open the throttle to get out of the way because you will swamp all the rowing skiffs with your wash. Phew. Made it through in one piece and even managed to avoid the local sport of getting beer poured on your head from the top of the Lendal bridge.

Wow. Never seen the like of it before. These people enjoyed hot sunny days in the company of their loved ones, not monochrome lives. Very moving. Genious.

First thing that springs to mind, having noted the genre of bike is to check the wiring harness for signs of a previous attempted theft, hotwiring and "repairs". It may be that the bike has had a misfortune with the criminal element, suffered some electrical damage and that is why the owner is selling.

Nothing, laying up. Last week my left ankle suffered a bout of tendonitis, so was hobbling around at work all week with that. This week, tendonitis has gone, but putting all the weight on the right leg means my feckn right knee has given up, so have been hobbling round at work all week again. I guess I am paying the price for all the motocross racing, trials competitions, games of squash and bodybuilding in the gym when I was a yoof. And all the heavy lifting, kneeling on concrete and laying in puddles getting trucks and heavy equipment on the move again. My legs are pretty much worn out. Getting old... Not to be recommended. It is not for sissies.

If your bike has an evap system and not just a straight forward breather, it may be that the carbon canister needs replacing.

I dream of something along the lines of.... From a vague inclination to burning up the road in three minutes.

Very knowledgeable reply. It is always good to get advice from someone that does not know a PW50 from a slice of mouldy cheese. To the OP. First things first. Did you remember to move the ignition switch from the start position to the run position once it was running? It is over 15 years since I worked on a PDub but if memory recalls, there is a centrifugal clutch on the right side of the engine. If the weights and therefor the clutch friction surfaces are stuck or there are other problems within the drum, it may not engage. This clutch drives a cross shaft with a bevel gear on the end, which takes power to the left side of the bike. The power is then transmitted through 90 degrees via a bevel gear set on the front end of the driveshaft. If the teeth are stripped on either of these, they will not transmit power down the driveshaft. At the rear end of the driveshaft you have a crownwheel and pinion setup which once again turns the power through 90 degrees and feeds the power to the rear wheel through a set of splines within the wheel hub. Any damage or wear to any splines, teeth or bearings within the system of shafts and gears will prevent power from reaching the back wheel. Edit. BTW. The crownwheel and pinion are lubricated by grease, not oil. Always ensure there is plenty of grease packed into the rear housing. First point of call is the clutch. You can check if power is going through the shafts to the wheel from there.

While posting on the whatdidyoudotoyourbikethisweekend thread, I had a ponder. Various notions slid across my frontal lobes at a snails pace then one stopped mid way across and started flashing. These days it is quite a big deal getting the bike out, but why? Back in the 80s and 90s I wore jeans permanantly My helmet with gloves tucked inside was kept on the kitchen table, my leather jacket was draped over the chair back and my moto x boots were by the back door. So if I had a whim to have a quick half hour on the bike, it was jacket on, helmet on, thrust my feet into my boots. Click click click, all the boot snaps were fastened and I was striding out of the back door in less than a a couple of minutes. Unlock the garage door, sit on the bike, key in ignition and away in less than five minutes from whim to riding. Now its a case of having a plan, wandering to the bike shed, key in hand and unlock the door. Ooops. Back into the house to switch the alarm system off. Back to the shed and uncover the bike. Key in ignition. Remove the locks and chains. Roll bike out of shed and start it up. Back into shed because it is a few weeks since I last rode it, return with tyre pressure gauge and check the pressures. Back to shed for footpump, put a couple of psi in the front. Return pump and gauge. Lock the shed up. Stop bike and return to house with the keys. Upstairs, take helmet out of cupboard and bag. Find boots. Find combat pants. Find jacket. Find bum bag. Get dressed. Go back out to bike, unlock gate and push bike through onto the drive, lock gate and go back to the house. Spend five minutes looking for the ignition key only to find it was behind the shed keys you put back in the key box all along. Helmet on, go out the front door, lock it and start up the bike. Open the gates to the road. And awaaay. 40 minutes of continuous action from deciding to go for a ride to actually leaving. Requires dedication these days. The number of times I have had the inclination to go for a ride, then thought sod it, I can't be arsed is huge. Modern society has had all fun and spontaneity removed. God I miss the carefree days of the 80s.

I looked of the window at an unfamiliar round yellow globe in the sky. I poked my nose out of the back door. It did not start dripping. Bolstered by this new development, I strode out to the bike shed and stood looking at the door with pursed lips for a minute or so, just mulling things over. Back inside and carpet slippers exchanged for trainers to facilitate a walk to the road leading out of the village. Checked said road and found it strewn with puddles and wet mud from the tractors in the fields. Back home, carpet slippers on, mug of hot chocolate gripped in hand, dogs laid with me on the sofa and a new Barry Sheene vid playing that has just been uploaded on youtube. Closest the bike has been to taking to the road since October.

Completed the finishing touches to the case. The antique case latches arrived as did the carrying handle, but in the end I decided that an original case would just have had latches fitted. Fitted the last few details. The ammo tin could do with a bit of aging. Looks too bright and new.

I made a presentation case for the Missus's gun. My rifles have slips, my Sig Sauer P226 sleeps in its Sig plastic case, yet wifeys cowboy gun was roughing it in an old cardboard box. This offended my OCD. So procured an old empty Edwardian antique cutlery canteen from the bay of E and set about ripping out all the insides, aging the outside, making my own label and changing it into a Colt revolver presentation case. She thought I was mad, but loves it now it is finished.

Very simple. Finance in girls name. V5 in girls name. Dickhead is guilty of TWOC if he does not have written and signed proof that it was a present. If he refuses to hand over keys and let the title owner take posession, then it becomes theft as he is showing intent to permanently deprive the owner of the property. As for keeping the keys. Easy for him to take possession of it again. It needs to be hid where he cannot find it.

Finally got around to cutting the overly long studs down on the front indicator mounts. They offended my OCD sensibilities everytime I looked at them. They practically waved at me. Now they are cut short and have acorn nuts fitted. Ruffled feathers smoothed. No restoration is ever quite finished, always something that could be better. As the larger stuff is completed, the details get finer and finer. Those long indicator studs really got on my nerves.

Sounds like a bearing keeper (cage) breaking up.

Can't say I like the new place much. Now the old milk bar in the village centre, with the eagles nest car park up the side was something else. You took your life in your hands leaving the top tier of the eagles nest. If you lost your balance as you turned down the hill, it was too steep to get a foot down in time to prevent a drop. Unless you had a 6 ft long leg of course. I first went to the milk bar on my fizzie at 16. Then the only car park was right in front of the building. Got there about 10 o clock one Sunday morning with my mates, parked the peds up at the front by the entrance steps and went in for a frothy coffee and a bacon buttie. Wow. You could just about still smell the brylcreme and oil from the 1950s rockers in the woodwork, what an atmosphere. Time passed, bikes came and parked up, we were in our element. Then we realised thst we were hemmed in by about 100 bikes. We were stood scratching our heads when some huge, bearded, denim cutoff bedecked bikers saw our predicament.. "Cmon lads, lets get the young uns bikes out". Out they came, picked up our peds and carried them out of the car park at shoulder height. Regulars for years after, until the move. After that, different crowd, different atmosphere. I have called in early doors maybe once every couple of years, for a coffee on my way somewhere else, but the place seems so sterile and pre packaged. Just not my sort of place now. At first it was endless rows of sportsbikes and one piece leathers, now endless rows of adventure bikes and cordura. No "characters" anymore like the guy on the honda 90 with sidecar, complete with goggle wearing jack russel riding in the chair. The original and the best. Judging by the type of bikes present it would be just before the move. Our peds would have been where the two blokes sat on the bench to the left are. No marked out parking bays in those days. I dont remember the statue of the old rocker though.

Vice Grip Garage. Jimmys World. Itchy Boots. The Bearded Explorer. Diesel Creek. Growling Sidewinder. Adventure Me. Jake Broe. Late Brake Show. Millyard. Used to follow Richy Vida, but he got a bit too precious and lost it when Egon disappeared.

I am languishing with a nasty cough, sore throat and headache. Took the car for its first service this morning and managed to get down a BK Double bacon cheesburger before coming home. If the missus is really lucky, I may declare a state of emergency and ....(insert pathetic cough)... announce a full blown case of man flu.

Tssk. Instructions? Who needs em? I'm a bloke and therefore am quite capable of screwing stuff up without recourse to obeying pictures and chinglish. Please to directly through wooden board 4 with 5 bolt screw number of steel. Please to hold your tool tightly before entering and screwing.

Just stuck it on ebay at a price far less than its valuation, however when you factor in the cost of transporting it to somewhere like the national motorcycle museum or the NEC for a specialist auction, and the risk you take at auction if the WRONG people are in the room and interest is low, it seems fair. Still a bit salty for ebay though. It will either sell or not. If not, not too bothered.